


the courage of stars

by leopoldjamesfitz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fitz is the best Bi out there I said what I said - Freeform, Read the relationship tags - seriously - Freeform, While FH isn't a huge thing it is mentioned quite a bit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 17:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopoldjamesfitz/pseuds/leopoldjamesfitz
Summary: Fitz stood, unmoving in the mouth of the room, still holding the empty champagne flute that he’d taken earlier. The room was crowded and busy, not things that he normally liked to associate himself with, but he tried to at least appear as though he was enjoying himself.And then, from across the room, he caught a glimpse of something – or rather someone. Her brown hair was tied back into a braid with a single golden ribbon laced through it, not unlike most of the other women in the room, but there was something particularly intriguing about this woman, something he couldn’t put his finger on.Aside from the dark chocolate color of her hair, and the deep honey of her hues, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about her. And yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.“See something you like?” Kasius said in his ear, and Fitz barely managed to restrain himself from jumping out of his skin.Unfortunately, he thought, gritting his teeth, before he let out a soft sigh, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”- - -A Marauder Fitz/Servitor Jemma AU





	the courage of stars

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to formally begin this by reiterating my notes from the tag: there are mentions of Fitz-Hunter in here, albeit vaguely. If that makes you uncomfortable, then please either skip this fic or read with caution. I will not apologize for adding this in, because FitzHunter is a ship of mine, but they are not the main ship at all. This is a FitzSimmons fic, and despite what some people say, you can be in a het ship and still be bi! 
> 
> I hope those of you who have chosen to read further on this enjoy it. The Explicit rating is because there is a piece of smut toward the ending, but it can be skipped over if you are uncomfortable with that as well. Lord knows I've spent the last few days going over it in my head about how I'd write something after not writing it for so long. 
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you for reading, as always.

“ _Jemma_.”

The gravelly voice came through the fog and the persistent ringing in her ears, but she did not look up, not immediately. Clenching her jaw, and biting back a sentiment that would have her on the receiving end of Kasius’ wrath, she let out a soft sigh and then turned toward him patiently, though she offered him no response. She knew that he didn’t need one.

The corners of his lips turned upward, a pleased smile coating his features, though she saw not one ounce of pleasure in his gaze. The stiff upper lip, the disgruntled features; he almost seemed _upset_ , but she didn’t care enough to ask him why.

It had been years since Kasius had taken her up onto the upper floors. She had done so to save her family, who would have benefited from her role. When she’d come out of the mist unharmed, it had been a miracle. But it had also been a burden. Jemma had never wanted to catch the eye of any of the Kreepers, but somehow, she’d caught his.

She did not miss the special attention he paid to her. Nor did she miss the lingering moments he spent at her side, or the gentle way that he did punish her, when he did, in fact, do just that. Kasius took care of all of his slaves – though he hated that word – but she was, arguably, his favorite. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though she was particularly more beautiful than any of the other people he surrounded around himself, and she certainly had nothing special about her. She hadn’t even made him a single dime in all the years she’d served as his servant in his underground business that only a few servants lived to tell about.

There had been story tossed around when she was younger, one that she’d never been really sure whether or not was true. Kasius’ slaves were his everything – they did everything that he didn’t want to do. They made him look luxurious because of how well kept they all were. They were a symbol of his status.

And yet, for the right price, any one of them could be sold to a stranger for the night to do… whatever said stranger wanted them to do. Jemma, herself, had never been taken advantage in that way, and for the most part, she’d thought it was because of Kasius’ favoritism, and quietly thanked him for it. She was not sure if she were ever completely ready to give herself over in that way.

However, there was always a lingering doubt in the back of her mind that she just wasn’t pretty enough for it. Not pretty like Bobbi, who had a suitor every other event, or Ava, who’s beauty was often discussed among the men (and even some women.)

It wasn’t as though she particularly _wanted_ that kind of attention, no less that kind of attention from the men and women that Kasius surrounded himself with, however.

Kasius’ jaw tightened as he stared at her, though he didn’t say a word for a long moment. It felt like almost a millennium had passed since he’d, and there was something that almost looked like regret in his gaze. Finally, with a deep exhale, he pressed his lips together in a thin line and cleared his throat.

“Your services have been requested by one of our guests.”

 

* * *

 

Kasius sold Inhumans quite freely, and while he’d always been on the invite list, Fitz had never taken advantage of the opportunity. It wasn’t as though he particularly needed to buy into the essential slave trade that the Kree had begun. With the money he’d inherited from his father’s estate after the man had been slain some five years before, Fitz lived fairly comfortably.

For the most part, most of the galaxy ignored him, and those who dared to come close enough almost always ran scared when they saw the brooch he wore, a gift from his late father that always weighed heavily on his chest.

And although Fitz had shed blood of his own before, the notoriety that came with the Marauder status that his father had spent every waking moment building became old after a while. He was tired of the motions, of the people who would try to endanger his life in order to get his wealth, only to fail or, worse, run away.

They never lived to tell about it, of course, but their nobility – or the lack thereof – was remembered long after they drew their last breath.

However, with the invite this time that had, more than likely, been reluctantly sent his way, there was something intriguing about the label that came with it – _Destroyer of Worlds for sale, the highest bidder will take home this lovely prize._

Most of the Inhumans that Kasius raffled off were mere mortals – men who could transform rock into liquid and spring attack their victims as such, women who could transform their beings and plague lovers and enemies alike with the same, sickly sweet, invitation of desire until they buried a knife inside their hearts. Nothing particularly special.

But there was something about the tagline of this one, along with the credentials he’d been sent from his informant in the Lighthouse – because he had an informant everywhere; it was just good business – caught his attention.

The decision to dock did not come as lightly as one might think.

“You’re absolutely mad if you think that I’m going to spend a few hours wining and dining with _Kasius_ of all beings.” His second-in-command, Hunter, admonished when Fitz walked into the room and told their pilot and only other official member of his team, Mack, the coordinates. “For the love of God, Fitz, you’ve got to have a bloody death wish to go there.”

Even as he handed the correspondence that he’d received to Hunter, the man was muttering lowly to himself. Of the three of them, and the handful of riff raff they kept on the plane, he got along with Hunter the best, if only because they managed to be compatible in more than one way.

It wasn’t like that, really, except when it was. At the very least, their _arrangement_ – or whatever the hell they were calling it – was mostly mutual and not a conversation topic. Neither of them expected more from the other, and that worked.

Mack made a noise when Fitz settled into the chair beside him, looking out at the vast galaxy. Nonetheless, he typed in the coordinates and began steering the plane toward their destination. “Are you sure about this, Turbo?” He asked, though his tone was slightly incredulous, as though he hadn’t expected this day to ever come.

As much as Hunter might know him, and know him he did, Mack knew him as well, though in a different way. Mack and he had been mates since they were teenagers, and the two had been through as much as was possible together. He knew, too, what going back meant to Fitz.

Though he’d never been to Kasius’ residence personally, his father had been a close friend of the Kree Lord. Close enough that Fitz still received invites, long after his death, for events. All in hopes that they could rekindle the same connection that Kasius had once had with his father, no doubt. But the man was despicable, and not the kind of beings that Fitz normally preferred to keep in his flock.

That didn’t mean to say that he didn’t have some degree of gratitude toward the man, even if it was out of anger. His father had bought one of Kasius’ slaves years before his birth, a young woman who’s smile apparently radiated brighter than the sun. That woman would become his mother, eventually, if only for a few short weeks before Fitz’s father had deemed her presence no longer useful and slit her throat, spilling her blood on the floor of the area where they now stood.

His father had always jovially told him that story as a boy, to inspire fear in him, of course. Fitz didn’t even know his mother’s name, not really, for as far as his father had been concerned, it was never important enough to share. The woman had served her purpose and given him a son, though perhaps not the one his father had always dreamed of.

Fitz shook his head, a wry smile crossing his features. “What’s the worst that’s going to happen? The whole thing is a bust and we still get as much terran food and alcohol that we can possibly eat? I might even feel gracious and turn my head the other way when the two of you spend double your month’s earnings on one of his pretty conquests.”

Hunter guffawed behind him, though Fitz didn’t bother looking behind as he chuckled brightly, ignoring the embarrassed look that crossed Mack’s face. Mack wasn’t that kind of man, not really, but Fitz knew the opportunity was always there.

If anything, focusing on the good that this event might bring would be the only thing that kept him from halting the mission altogether. Hunter dropped the tablet into his lap and gave him a look of concern, one that he did not match as he pulled up the invitation and signed his arrival back to the sender.

Whether or not he liked it now, there truly was no turning back.

 

* * *

 

The party was in full swing when the three arrived, fashionably late as per Marauder protocol. Some of the vilest creatures in the galaxy were there today, apparently just as impressed by the invite as he was, and the promise of the Inhuman that would walk away with one of them today, depending on who ended up being the highest bidder. If Fitz was interested enough, he knew that he could overshadow everyone in the room, but that was to be decided when he set eyes on the woman being sold today.

For obvious reasons, Fitz had his reservations about the slave trade. His father, even before and even after his mother, had taken advantage of them in any way that he could. His father’s wealth had been something inherited from his own father, and in all the years that he’d spent frivolously, he’d barely managed to put a dent in it. Adding on what Fitz had made over the years since his death, he knew that he was likely one of the wealthiest beings there, if not _the_ wealthiest. Though he didn’t care to brag.

Hunter and Mack stood at either side, and the furthest away was a Chronicon that had been an ally of his father’s before his death, Enoch. He was excellent at finding intel and pretty much anything else that Fitz needed him to.

Fitz let out a short breath when he realized Kasius was watching him. The Kree was talking to a woman at his side, both of them watching the group that had just walked in and after a moment of discussion, the man threw his robes out dramatically and moved toward Fitz with a smile that could almost be called warm if it weren’t hidden with undertones of hate.

“Leopold,” he greeted, not even bothering to hide his pleasure. “It’s so great of you to come. I have to admit; I was quite surprised when you responded to the invitation. My Inhuman has finally changed your mind?”

Fitz gritted his teeth together twice; once for the use of his real name, and once for the reminder of Kasius’ Inhuman trade, but he did not dare say a word. Instead, feigning passiveness, he shrugged one shoulder. “I guess we will have to see if you have finally captured my attention, won’t we, Kasius?”

The Kree, for what it was worth, barely flinched at Fitz’s harsh tone. Instead he bobbed his head almost eagerly, clapping his hands together. “I can assure you, Leopold. She is a real winner.”

She must be, he thought quietly, though not outwardly issuing his claims to Kasius; his excitement was palpable. Instead, Fitz bobbed his head politely, and grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray of a nearby servant, taking a slow sip.

He extended the mouth of the flute toward Kasius with a short grin. “Best of luck to you, then,” he told him, and then moved further into the room, his comrades following him.

Hunter clapped him on the shoulder as he passed by, levelling him with a look that made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Fitz wasn’t the man that he pretended to be around beings like Kasius, and it had never settled with him well. This person, this being; this was exactly everything his father had wanted him to be. Exactly what his father had spent the extent of his life trying to nurture into him.

Mack disappeared soon, too, leaving him with just Enoch who was, if nothing else, a loyal being. The man had stayed with his father for many years despite the man that he was, after all.

“You shouldn’t let him get under your skin,” Enoch spoke, with all of his infinite wisdom, looking around the room, though not with a hint of interest in his features.

“I wasn’t,” Fitz said, perhaps a bit too defensively. When he looked over at Enoch, the man was staring back. He couldn’t tell if he was unimpressed or curious or anything, really. The man was impassable. Fitz sighed deeply. “Alright, maybe I was a little.”

Enoch nodded before turning back around. “I’ve managed to get information on every single person in this room, should that be something that you require. The servants included, though there wasn’t much of a past for some of them beyond their lives with Kasius.”

Fitz pursed his lips, nodding along as he scanned the room. “You might want to share some of that information with Hunter, before he gets himself in trouble.”

Enoch turned back toward him, watching him carefully. “But not for yourself, Mr. Fitz?”

Fitz cast him a wayward glance before shaking his head abruptly. “You know how I feel about Kasius’ exploits. I’d rather not get involved with such dealings.” He murmured as he scanned the room, seeing Enoch watch him from the corner of his eye. Fitz hated that look, as indecipherable and unchanging as it was.

“Very well, then, Mr. Fitz. I’ll make sure that Mr. Hunter knows which ones to keep himself away from, so that he doesn’t get himself in trouble, or worse, murdered, I suppose.” Enoch didn’t immediately turn away from him, but after a moment he nodded his goodbye and stepped into the room, moving toward a large beast of a woman, who regarded him with slightly less disdain than usual.

Fitz stood, unmoving in the mouth of the room, still holding the empty champagne flute that he’d taken earlier. The room was crowded and busy, not things that he normally liked to associate himself with, but he tried to at least appear as though he was enjoying himself.

And then, from across the room, he caught a glimpse of something – or rather _someone_. Her brown hair was tied back into a braid with a single golden ribbon laced through it, not unlike most of the other women in the room, but there was something particularly intriguing about this woman, something he couldn’t put his finger on.

Aside from the dark chocolate color of her hair, and the deep honey of her hues, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about her. And yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“See something you like?” Kasius said in his ear, and Fitz barely managed to restrain himself from jumping out of his skin.

_Unfortunately_ , he thought, gritting his teeth, before he let out a soft sigh, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

Bobbi held her hands as the two of them sat in the changing room, Jemma taking slow, deep breaths. It was all she could do to stop herself from screaming. Ever since Kasius had told her the news, she’d gone through a plethora of emotions. From shock to relief to disgust to fear and everything in between. Currently, she felt moments away from a meltdown or twenty.

“It’ll be okay,” Bobbi was saying, though the words had lost their effect after the first handful of times Bobbi had said them. The other woman was used to the attention from men. She was tall and thin, gorgeous and a literal goddess, even with all that gold paint. But Jemma… Jemma was just, well, _Jemma_. “Remember, all you have to do is let him lead… let him do whatever he wants. The less you fight, the faster it will be.”

Jemma couldn’t wrap her mind around how many times Bobbi had gone through that, and how she lived with the disgusting feeling afterwards. She hadn’t even met the person who’d spent 50,000 units ( _fifty thousand!)_ on her and she was already ready to duck in a bath and never come out.

That was an absurdly dark thought, even for her. She shook it off with a slight shiver.

“How do you do this time and time again?” Jemma asked, though she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted an answer to her question. Bobbi was easily one of Kasius’ more popular servants, and the thought had always made Jemma’s skin crawl. It was almost worse now.

Bobbi pressed her lips together in a thin line, sighing. “It doesn’t get easier,” she said, and for whatever reason, her words sounded like a promise. “But I’ve learned tricks along the way to make sure that they’re done and asleep before the first hour has passed, and I have the rest of my night to spend however which way I please.”

The concept itself was odd. But everything since being one of the ‘lucky’ ones to be chosen as Kasius’ servant had been. This was just one notch on an already overcomplicated lifestyle that she now lived. And maybe, perhaps, it wouldn’t be too bad. All of these beings had traveled miles to get here.

Maybe she’d get lucky and her companion would fall asleep before they could get any further than a kiss or two here and there.

Before Jemma could say another word, another servant came in the room, breaking the two of them apart, to announce that Jemma’s presence was requested. She stood, and tried not to think about how every step toward the room that she would spend the night with a stranger in felt like her last.

 

* * *

 

Fitz wasn’t sure what he should do. Should he stand up? Sit down? Lay down?

He ended up standing, if only because while he waited, he could pace, and that had its equal advantages. He’d never done anything like this before, certainly not for the price that he was doing it now, but when Kasius had offered up a number, he hadn’t thought to barter him down at all. Instead, he was 50,000 units in the hole and feeling more and more guilty about essentially buying one of Kasius’ slaves to be his _prostitute_ _–_ of all things! _–_ for the evening. He’d never felt more disdain in his life for himself.

He’d vowed from the moment he’d paid for her that he wouldn’t be like his father was with the women he’d rented. If only after the self loathing had stopped making him want to jump back on his ship and leave immediately. His father had never been the kindest of men, and he knew without question that that would have translated into the way he treated women, even if Fitz had never seen it firsthand.

(There was a story he’d heard once, as a boy. Of his father and mother having three babies before him, all female, and all torn from their mother’s breast and slain before her eyes. Fitz had never gathered the courage to ask his father if the story was true while he still breathed, but he imagined with much reluctance that it was.)

The door clattered briefly before it opened, revealing the woman who he’d seen in the banquet hall earlier. The bidding was tomorrow at sunset, but Kasius encouraged all of his guests to take to the rooms he’d laid out for them, and encouraged them even more to take a companion with them.

For a moment, Fitz couldn’t believe that he was one of the beings who had.

The girl stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her as she turned, ringing her hands before she let out a soft sigh and began tugging at a sash that held the material she wore together until he could see the freckled skin underneath. There was a determined look on her features that was almost commendable.

It took Fitz a blinding moment to come back to himself and he held up his head, shaking his head quickly. The woman looked at him, halting her actions and he held his hand up to his eyes, as if it somehow made it better. Her confusion was palpable. “Ah, no, that’s, uh, not necessary.” He said, his voice strained. “You can… redress.”

Jemma paused, narrowing her eyes in his direction as she did as she was told, staring at him with wide eyes.

Fitz peeked from between his fingertips, and when he noticed her state of dress, he released a long breath of relief. “I, uh, I thought that we could… talk a little, first, or just at all.”

Jemma looked at him, confusion heavy in her features as she tilted her head, unsure of what this man meant. “Talk?” She asked slowly. She hadn’t anticipated that at all. “I’m not sure I understand Mr…”

“Fitz,” he supplied, albeit perhaps a little too quickly. He took a step toward her, trying to ignore the way she flinched when he did. “It’s… it’s just Fitz.”

The woman did not smile; if anything, she looked all the more frightened. He didn’t know enough words in the human vocabulary to apologize to her, or to try and make it better. Or, really, to explain to her that he hadn’t bought her in the way she was imagining, or rented her to itch a scratch of his, but rather because she’d quite literally taken his breath away just by existing, which in itself was a funny thing.

He’d never felt this drawn to a person he didn’t properly know the name of before.

He heaved out a slow sigh and stepped back, giving her the personal space that she unconsciously desired and gestured toward a table at the back of his room, filled with some of the best dishes he’d encountered in his journeys through the galaxy.

“I… I noticed you didn’t eat during dinner,” he told her quietly when she gave him another curious stare, his cheeks pinking. “I assumed it was because Kasius had you all working, but I wasn’t sure if you would have the opportunity to eat before…”

Her eyes scanned his, looking over at the food before turning her head. She wondered if he was smart enough to poison her this way. It did seem like an awful way to go. She swallowed and moved to deny the meal, no matter how good it did look, in case it meant that she would not leave the room later on, but he’d begun shaking his head.

“It’s not poisoned, or filled with lead, or anything like that. I promise.” He assured her, though his words meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. “I asked for the chefs on board my ship to make some of my favorite dishes to share with you and I oversaw the whole thing. There’s not a drop in these dishes that could hurt you in any way.” He pressed his lips together, and it was only then that he noticed his hands were shaking.

He was nervous, too.

Jemma took a few steps over to the food, trying to will her belly from growling loudly as she looked over everything. While she could name a few of the dishes laid out before her, there was a handful that didn’t quite look familiar to her at all. It all looked very good, and he had a keen eye, or maybe it was just a lucky guess that he figured out that there wouldn’t be much time for her to eat.

“Thank you, Fitz.” She whispered quietly, and reached over to grab an apple from the table, holding it in her palms. It was the first real piece of fruit she’d held in years, and it instantly reminded her of her mother. Bless her soul.

“You’re welcome…” A look crossed his face that she couldn’t quite identify. He furrowed his eyebrows in her direction and paused. “I apologize, but I’ve just now realized that Kasius never actually told me your name.”

Jemma blushed, then, feeling strangely vulnerable under Fitz’s gaze. She wasn’t sure if this was normal practice, or if it were just a line he’d used on ten other women before her. It all made her feel incredibly odd. As though something was flourishing within her belly. “Jemma,” she replied quietly, laying the apple back down.

“Jemma,” he breathed quietly, sounding the word in his mouth. “Precious stone.”

The look on his face was almost blinding, and she had to dip her head away from him to stop herself from immersing herself in it all. There was something in particular that drew her to him, something indescribable.

When she had arrived to his room that evening, she hadn’t expected such pleasantries. She’d expected their time to almost be over by now, if she’d been lucky, but this… this was different. Fitz moved to grab a plate and handed it to her, gesturing to the feast in front of them.

“Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

Jemma laid along his bed, allowing him to feed her grapes as they talked aimlessly. Her belly was full, and she felt warm inside. Maybe it was because of the smile he shared with her, but she would never put a name to it.

“Can I ask you something?” He said quietly, popping a grape into his own mouth as he looked over at her. Jemma stopped for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked at him. In the past few hours, there had been little that they _hadn’t_ talked about. It was odd in a way, almost as though they’d known each other for years now; not just a handful of hours.

With a slight nod of her head, she encouraged him to proceed with a small smile.

Fitz sat up a bit, shifting so that he laid on his side, holding himself up slightly. “Your make up,” he murmured, examining the gold paint that covered her forehead and her lips. “Do you wear it all the time?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but from the moment it left his lips and reached her, he felt guilty. The uncomfortable shift of her frame was enough for him to want to redact it, but before he had a chance to do just that, she nodded quietly.

He wondered how long she’d been working for Kasius; how many people she’d lain with like this. It stirred up something odd within his belly, something that he didn’t quite bring to fruition. But when he sat up, sliding off of the bed and grabbing a small wash basin and cloth that had been laid in his room for freshening up. He brought them both over to the bed, watching Jemma’s curious expression.

He dampened the cloth and sat down on the bed next to her, hesitatingly reaching it out toward her. When Jemma paused, staring at the cloth in his hands, or maybe just his hands in general. Either way, he sensed the hesitance in her features before she crawled across the bed, looking him in the eye before she took his wrist and gently lifted it up.

Together, they began scraping away the gold tinted paint that was on her forehead, the pink skin underneath revealed slowly until there was nothing left but just that, and a few flecks that took an extra swipe and dab of water to take away. With the paint off, he realized how wrong he’d been earlier – Jemma wasn’t unremarkable at all, she was absolutely magnificent.

“Hi,” he whispered gently, laying the cloth back in the bowl. Her lips still shone gold, but he found himself too fixated on her now. The gold had brought out her eyes a little, but if anything, it’d taken away from her, too. She was beautiful; even more than he’d imagined in the first place.

Jemma blushed, her cheeks pinking and he smiled a little, gently. “Hi,” she whispered softly, exhaling as she met his gaze.

They hovered there, a hairs breath away from one another. In the end, Fitz wasn’t sure who leaned in first; but the first brush of their lips is careful. It’s almost like a promise. There’s something that lights up within him almost immediately. Her lips are softer than what he’s used to, light and dainty and all at once, his heart feels like it’s soaring.

Jemma feels dizzy. His lips are rough and his scruff scratches her chin, but something swoops within her as she leans forward, pressing a little more insistently against his own lips. It’s instinctive, as though drinking water, and she instantly can’t get enough of him. Her hand comes up, and she braces her hand on his shoulder as she lifts up, intending to deepen the movement, as she’d been told to do.

Fitz breaks away a moment after, and ignores the frustrated sound that she makes when he does. His eyes open slowly, piercing into her own as she still hovers, watching him with an intense curiosity. “I’m not going to force myself on you, Jemma.” He told her, his voice ragged.

Her eyebrows furrowed, lowering herself to his height. The two sit there for a moment, both of their chests heaving. “Isn’t that the point of this… exchange?” She whispered, her voice slightly shaky. She wondered, idly, if she weren’t desirable enough, but the look on his face shut that thought out.

Fitz stuttered, shaking his head quickly before nodding, albeit reluctantly. It wasn’t entirely the truth, even if that was the reason why Kasius thought that Fitz was interested in her. “No, I, uh…” he shook his head slowly, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “You were the only person in that entire room that captured my attention.”

Jemma paused, flushing instantly as the weight of his words hit her. A small, hesitant smile tugged on her lips as she ducked her head, trying to ignore another flutter as it hit her. “Oh,” she whispered softly, lifting her gaze toward his. She wasn’t sure what else she should say.

She hadn’t been expecting that answer at all.

“It’s late,” he said after a moment of what could almost be described as awkward silence, but it hadn’t felt that way. “Why don’t we, um, why don’t you just lay down here and I’ll sleep over there,” he said, gesturing to where there was a couch, though it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was far too small for him.

Jemma sighed, shaking her head as she laid her hand on his chest, just over his heart. She pressed gently until he laid down, shaking her. “That won’t be necessary, Fitz,” she promised, and curled into his side.

He ignored the way it seemed their bodies were designed to fit together and after a moment of hesitation, he kissed the top of her head, looping his arm around her waist. She sighed, settling a little. He was almost thankful when she didn’t bring up his actions just a few moments before.

“Good night, Fitz.” She whispered, already falling asleep on him. He found that he didn’t mind at all.

Reaching over, he grabbed the switch for the light in the room and plunged them into darkness.

“Good night, Jemma.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, he woke before she did. She was still asleep, tucked into the crook of his neck, and he felt as though he twisted his own whilst trying to look at her. Jemma didn’t even make a sound, and for a moment, he laid there with her, letting her sleep for a while longer. He didn’t know what time it was, but given that neither had been woken up, he imagined it was still early.

It’s only then, with her snuffling against his chest, that he comes to term with his desire to never have her leave his side again. A part of him felt immediately guilty for the want, because his father had taken a girl away from her home without a sense of worry about her state and used her for what he’d needed at the time until she was no longer useful. But he wasn’t his father. He’d spent his whole life ensuring that.

But a larger part of him knew, even in the short few hours that they’d spent together, there was something incredibly unique and different about the bond that he and Jemma had. Something that he yearned to keep close to him.

She’d have a good life with them, he thought; they always watched each other’s backs, of course. And people didn’t think to mess with him just because of the reputation that his father had built. She would be safe with him. He wasn’t sure he could walk away knowing that she might not be there.

But in the same breath, they’d spent just one night together. Jemma had eased around him as the night had progressed, but he knew that she still held her reservations toward him. She didn’t know if he was being completely honest, and he understood that. Jemma had absolutely no reason to believe a word that came out of his mouth.

If anything, his reputation alone gave his word little meaning.

After a while, Jemma stirred, breaking him out of his thoughts and she blinked open her eyes. The darkness of the room still enveloped them as the morning light had begun to turn on, a feature he assumed Kasius had installed in order to give his guests a better wake up. Almost like a sunrise.

In the dim light, their eyes met and the only thing he wanted to do was whisk her away right then and there, and it seemed like such a foolish desire to want to give into, but he found himself wanting it any way.

“Run away with me,” he whispered into the distance between them, which wasn’t much. Jemma blinked for a second, then blinked again, confusion on her features. “You’re not safe here.”

“No one else will be either,” she whispered quickly, barely processing his words, he realized. His heart sunk a little. Jemma sat up a little, placing her hand on his chest as she looked down at him. There was a nervousness to her that he hadn’t seen since she’d first entered the room. “Fitz, Kasius will kill everyone that I’ve ever known, everyone I’ve ever loved if I leave my post.” She paused, turning away from him with a soft, shaky breath. “My family… Bobbi…”

There was a part of her, albeit a small part, wanted to take his offer for what it was and leave with him then. It was a ridiculous thought; she’d never been irresponsible in that way before. Leaving her post, as horrible as it might be, would mean more trouble than what it was worth for everyone except for her.

Except, all she wanted to do was just that. Let him whisk her away to some far, unknown point of the galaxy, where Kasius could never find her again. Where he could never touch her again. The idea, while absolutely absurd, was so tempting. But she knew what he was capable of. She knew what Kasius could and would do in her absence.

Fitz was studying her as she ran over the thoughts in her head, all of them tumbling around as her breathing picked up. His eyes didn’t betray the hurt he felt, but the gentle way that he lifted his hand up and cupped her cheek stopped her almost immediately and she looked toward him, waiting for some degree of admonishing or anything, really. The way she flinched under his touch scared him.

But nothing came. All that was there was silence, and his softening gaze and she could feel the tears as they begun to blur her vision and she swallowed the lump that was in her throat.

“Kasius isn’t a good man,” she whispered softly, as though the confession might break the fabric of reality, or something equally disastrous. “He is possessive and he makes sure that you know that he is…”

Fitz clenched his other hand into a fist at his side as he gently ran his thumb along her cheekbone and nodded. He knew the stories; Kasius was always immensely proud of the women and men he kept in his ranks, the servants that were his and his alone. It was a well-known fact among the occupants of this galaxy, and possibly the next. It was also _theorized_ that his level of hospitality did not extend beyond the guests he invited into his home.

Fitz knew he was probably one of only a handful of people that knew the truth of his temperament, and at that, the stories he’d heard over the years were from people who knew of the trade his father had been readily involved in. From the stories he could gather of the woman he might’ve called his mother if she hadn’t been expendable to his father in the end of things.

“Jemma,” he said lowly, clearing his throat as she dipped her head, unable to look at him. “I know.”

She froze then, her eyes widening before she met his gaze. They narrowed a beat later as she tried to wrap her mind around what he was saying. Kasius would have been smart enough to fool everyone of his real personality, she knew that, but given that this was the first time she recalled actually seeing Fitz within his walls, it seemed unlikely that he could know so much.

She wondered briefly if he’d just placated her with that statement, but something about the deeply haunted look in his eyes stopped her from accusing him of such a thing.

“My mother,” he said before she could ask him anything else, knowing that her curiosity was piquing and it was almost palpable. He cleared his throat and pressed his lips together as he cleared his throat. “She was one of his slaves.”

Jemma stopped, a beat passing, and then another. Her heart wrenched in her chest as the weight of his words seemingly fell upon her. She grabbed both of his hands in hers and he lifted their joined hands up, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. There was a shaky smile that crossed his features, but the smile didn’t make it to his eyes.

“I didn’t know her,” he explained, feeling slightly heavy with the thought. His mother hadn’t lived past her purpose; his father had seen fit to that. “But I know a lot about her; about what was her station. My father bought her from Kasius years before my birth.”

She wondered, with his confession in the air, how a man could come back to a place like that and not be filled with the regret that now coursed through her. How he could come back to a place like this at all. The memories and everything else in between could not have been comforting.

And yet, there he was.

“Does he touch you?” Fitz murmured gently, disentangling one of his hands and reaching up to trace his fingertips along her cheek. When she flinched once more, he had the answer that he needed, but it hardly made it any better. “Does he _hurt_ you?”

Jemma shook her head. She had been wise enough to get herself out of beatings on more than one occasion, but not everyone had the same luck. “No, Fitz,” she promised, because in all the years she had been by his side, she’d been almost convinced that Kasius took a liking to her. He was kind with her, patient; not in any way she’d seen with the other servant of his. “Not like _that_.”

There was an unmistakeable quiver to her when she said that. It wasn’t because she was defending him, because he didn’t think – he knew – that it wasn’t that. Jemma looked anywhere but him, and as the tears filled her eyes, the only thing he could do was shush her nonsensically, hoping to make all of this better somehow.

“I was taken just days after my eighteenth birthday,” she told him, her voice quieter than it had been the entire time they’d been talking. It would have been endearing if not for the shakiness behind it; almost as though they were sharing secrets. “When I passed through terrigenesis and everything was okay, when I didn’t turn, I was relieved.” She said, a scoff on her lips when she said it, shaking her head quickly. “But then he came down, and he was watching everyone. I didn’t know him, really. I, I knew who he was but I didn’t know what he looked like and I didn’t know when he approached me what all of it meant.”

She hadn’t known that that day would be the last time she would see her parents, he realized with a solemn nod.

“My parents, they, uh, they warned me about terrigenesis. They warned me about renewals. But they didn’t warn me about the day Kasius came down and picked me and a handful of other people to go up to the upper decks to help him.” She said, her voice shakier than ever. The longer she spoke, the more she shook and the only thing he could do was lay his other palm against her shoulder, stroking up and down the length of her arm. “They couldn’t have known something like that… it’d never happened before. Never. Kasius usually chose his servants from higher up levels. Not processing… Not me. But there’d been a massacre, by his hand, of course, and they were in need. Desperate need.” She sighed, pressing her lips together. “I’ll never forget the first day, that first day when he came up to me. I didn’t know who he was. I knew he was a Blue. Obviously highly powered because of the guards he had, but I didn’t… I didn’t know. And when he took me, my Dad, he tried to stop it. But Kasius told him that he’d slit his throat, or mine, if either of them tried anything.” Jemma dipped her head, remembering every single moment all at once. Everything that she’d spent so long burying deep within her.

That was, unquestionably the worst day of her life.

“And you know, I thought about it once or twice. Escaping to the lower levels. We had access. Even after he took my hearing, I thought about going back to my Mom and Dad but Kasius he… he seemed to know everything I was thinking. He stopped me one day when the thoughts were really bad and told me that if I ever tried to leave him, it wouldn’t just be my life on the line.” She told him, squeezing her hands together on her lap. She didn’t know why she was confessing all of this to a stranger. A stranger who was friends with Kasius, of all people.

Bloody hell, she was going to get executed, and it wouldn’t be just her.

It was then, in that moment, with Jemma shaking underneath his palm as she shook her head repeatedly, Fitz only solidified his thoughts to take her far away from this man, but also his desire to end Kasius’ life.

Jemma had been taken from her family. He let the thoughts sit with him as she shook, taking turns between brushing errant strands of hair behind her ear and then glancing up at him. Fitz watched her carefully, waiting until the shaking had stopped and the sniffles had too. And as much as he wanted to take her far away from all of this, he knew there was a better option.

An option better for her, at least.

He’d bring her home, and he would leave her there, with her family, when they were safe. He would make sure that nobody suffered underneath the Kree’s hand again.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised, reaching up to press a kiss to her forehead. It was more than just a promise. It was a vow. After everything he’d heard that evening, it was hardly even a question anymore.

Kasius would be dead before the end of the evening.

 

* * *

 

The atmosphere of the room was tense, or maybe it was just him. He’d had just a brief moment to meet up with Hunter and Mack, Enoch having been the one to interrupt his time with Jemma, before the four of them had been called to dinner. It was a lavish affair, with only the best from this side of the galaxy, but Fitz wasn’t hungry.

He, for obvious reasons, had other things on his mind.

If anyone was curious, and he did notice Hunter looking at him from the corner of his eye, they didn’t say anything, and he was happy for that. He wasn’t sure he really had an answer to explain to the man. If Hunter knew what he was about to do, he would have dragged him away _himself_ , despite not being that much taller than Fitz.

Fitz watched as Kasius ordered around the servants, encouraging them to check up on each guest individually. There was no question in his tone. It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. The Kree was not _offering_ them an option. He’d taken that choice away from them all the moment he’d taken them to be his servants.

His eyes fell on Jemma, watching as she looked over at him, though not quite meeting his gaze. After they’d been interrupted earlier, the only thing he’d wanted was a handful of minutes with her, to explain his plan, perhaps, give her a warning. They hadn’t been permitted a moment like that.

She met his gaze and turned away from it a beat later, after laying out a plate in front of one of the men there. He wanted to say something, anything, but it wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place.

After dinner was over, he watched her disappear, and barely heard Kasius’ announcement that the fight would begin in an hour and that they could all freshen up before then. His attention was too focused on her. He wondered if he’d be able to spare a moment to find her and let her know, but Kasius’ voice boomed behind him before he had the chance.

“She’s quite remarkable, isn’t she?”

Fitz jumped, turning toward the man as he clenched his jaw, turning back once to look at the now emptied area. He’d never felt more drawn to someone in his life, and that in itself was such a terrifying thought.

Despite the urge to use the terran weapon that he carried on his hip now and finish the job, he stopped himself. Instead, he nodded, pasting a smile on his face that he hoped didn’t look too fake.

“She’s magnificent,” he corrected, and moved past Kasius, to the door that his guests walked through, though the servant’s exit remained in the forefront of his mind the entire time.

He had to get her out of there somehow. Maybe before all of this. But somehow that seemed impossible. Kasius knew Jemma; he watched her almost as much as Fitz did. She was his prized possession.

Fitz gritted his teeth and caught Hunter’s gaze as they walked through the door and began down the hall. As much as he wanted to bring her away with him, and show her the parts of the galaxy that he’d fallen in love with over his journeys, he knew that she’d be happier here with her family.

The people that she hadn’t seen in years now, and more importantly she’d be happier without him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see the look in her eye, either, when he executed his plan later.

It didn’t matter, though. He could last with her hating him as long as she was safe.

That was truly all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

The fight is nowhere as spectacular as it had been broadcasted to be, but even he couldn’t tell if his attention were pulled because of the weight of what he was about to do, or if it were entirely because Kasius’ Inhuman’s powers were mostly lacklustre. He had more than just the one that was advertised, a couple of ones that the occupants of the room had eaten up and bought as such, but the only thing that Fitz could think about was the conversation he’d had earlier with Jemma.

Kasius sold slaves during the bidding. Gave them an opportunity to find freedom on another ship, or whatever freedom could be found in the arms of a murderer. Fitz knew that he was speaking out of turn, and that he could easily be categorized as the same as everyone else in the room, but he’d at least had the sensibility to treat the servants with respect. These men and women didn’t have an ounce of that left in them.

During the final fight, when Kasius’ lead ‘Destroyer of Worlds’ came out, the room fell silent for a moment. He could feel everyone analyzing her, the tiny girl that she was, and wondering what she could give that wouldn’t be something that their lines of strong men couldn’t. And then the girl lifted up her hand and blew Sinara, Kasius’ second in command, halfway across the room without flinching.

The only thing he heard after that was the sounds of murmurs of approval. Fitz reached into his his jacket where he’d tucked the gun earlier and when the Destroyer tossed the Kree across the room again, he pulled up his gun and shot the man to his right in the temple before standing up and, one by one, executing every other despicable being in the room until there was just Kasius left, standing at the carnage.

In all the chaos, he hadn’t heard a damn word, but as he came back to himself and back to reality, he heard Hunter’s voice, and felt his hand on his shoulder as he shook him, repeating the same question over and over again. “What the hell are you doing?”

“My, my,” Kasius stood, looking at the display. “I can’t say I thought you had it in you.”

Fitz refused to look anywhere but the man. Even though he couldn’t see Jemma, he felt her eyes on him. He didn’t want to know what she thought about the display. He didn’t want to know her disappointment. He swallowed and shot Kasius in the leg, watching as he crumpled down.

Behind him, Jemma stood, watching Fitz with a careful display. Fitz took a step forward, watching her the entire time. He searched for any signs of hate, or distrust, or anger, but all he saw was shock. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was good shock or bad. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Jemma took another step forward, glancing down at Kasius before lifting her gaze up to him again. Fitz stared back, pressing his lips together nervously. Hunter was still barking incredulously and Fitz nudged him back.

Jemma didn’t look afraid, or disgusted, or any of the things that had been running through his mind at first. If anything, as the confusion faded, a slight approval appeared on her features. Fitz bent, pulling out the remote for Jemma’s hearing out of Kasius pocket and pointed it in her direction, pressing the button. She stared at him as her hearing came back, flinching only a little before a small smile spread on her face. It was contagious, and despite everything, he smiled back in her direction.

“He’s yours,” he said, reaching in and holding a knife, handle facing her, toward her. Jemma’s eyes flickered toward the blade. “I won’t take this away from you.” He told her quietly.

It wasn’t that Fitz didn’t have his reasons for wanting to kill him, because he did, but Jemma was just one of the many tortured souls that had passed through his reign. She’d had so much taken from her that Fitz couldn’t fathom it. The things that had been taken away from him – his father, mostly – were things he’d been glad to lose. But Kasius’ reign was about to end with her, if she wanted that. It was poetic in it’s own way.

Their eyes met and they held their gaze for a long moment. Fitz wondered if he shouldn’t care what she thought of him in that moment – his father wouldn’t – but with the knife in between them, the only thing he could do was search her eyes for a sign of something, anything, that would let him know what she was thinking. Did she hate him? Was she disgusted by him?

After a few reluctant moments, Jemma reached and wrapped her hand around the handle, the grip so tight that her knuckles turned white. When their eyes met again, there was a flicker of something, enjoyment maybe, and she smiled slightly. Before she could move an inch, however, Kasius took a blade from his own waist and thrust it into Fitz’s side.

Fitz grunted loudly and fell to the ground, hand moving to cover the wound instinctively. Jemma was by his side in a moment, hand trying to grab his away so she could inspect the wound, but he grabbed her hand mid air, shaking his head. Jemma still held the knife in her hand, her knuckles impossibly whiter somehow. There was fear in her eyes now.

“I’m okay,” he promised through gritted teeth, though by the look that crossed her features, he knew that she didn’t entirely believe it. Fitz could understand and agree with that, but really – he’d be okay in the grand scheme of things. The wound was mostly superficial. “Jemma, I promise. I’m okay.” He told her and she nodded, cupping his cheek.

Jemma leaned in, pressing an ardent kiss to his mouth, perhaps out of relief, and pulled away. With her eyes locked on his for a beat longer, she shifted the knife in her hand and then turned toward Kasius, staring him in the eye as she dug the jagged edge into his neck and slit his throat.

Fitz felt all of the breath rush out of him and for an impossibly long moment, all he could do was watch her. The way she gritted her teeth as the blade dragged across his flesh, the look of horror that briefly passed when the deed was done and the weight of her actions had come upon her, and then the look of triumph as the blade fell out of her hand and on the ground. All the while, she stared Kasius straight in his eyes, never flinching.

He stared back until the blood began pooling in his mouth, a lock of pure shock on his features, but amusement all the while. Kasius eventually fell to the ground, bleeding out slowly. Jemma stood over his body, exhaling slowly, before she moved back to Fitz’s side.

She knelt down, removing his hand from the wound as she inspected it. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked over it, trying not to prod the wound itself while still getting a good look at it. As she shifted his frame, he hissed at the pull and she stopped, her eyes immediately reaching his, an unasked question on her lips.

“I’m okay,” he promised, although his voice was a little bit strained. Jemma let out a sigh and helped him up, the two of them moving slowly through the doorway and down the hall. Every step felt like agony, and when they turned the corner and found a room nearby, he pointed to it wordlessly, needing to sit down for just another moment.

They needed to get out of here, to safety, but with everyone dead… was there really any reason to run?

Jemma helped him sit down on a bench as she disappeared behind a screen. His eyes followed her the entire way, trying not to think of the barest glimpse of freckles he’d seen the day before when she’d come into his room for the first time.

Hunter stomped into the room not long after, however, and the look he gave him was all that Fitz needed to know that Hunter wasn’t happy at all with the theatrics he’d just pulled off. He didn’t need the ensuing lecture, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to receive it.

“What the actual hell, mate?” Hunter said, throwing his hands up before they fell to his hips. Hunter stared at him, prompting him to answer his question, but Fitz really didn’t have a good one. Not one that he would accept at the very least. “You are an actual moron, you know that, right? We’re going to have half of the galaxy looking for our heads now!”

“And the other half will hail us as heroes,” he responded calmly. Well, as calmly as he could manage. The wound might have been a little too deep for him to call superficial, but he used that word in his head anyway. “Our people don’t stand for men who keep slaves. You of all people should know that.”

(The fact that Hunter himself had grown up as one before Fitz had saved him all those years ago was not something that they discussed lightly, and not something that was brought up often, but when it was, it did the trick.)

Hunter balked, but before he could say another word, Mack came up behind him, looking just as frazzled, if not more, but the only thing he could do was level Fitz with a look that somehow held more disappointment than anything Hunter had shared with him thus far.

Fitz dipped his head, but it was then that Jemma joined them again, sitting down by his side with what looked like gauze and bandages. She impatiently began pulling his shirt up and out of the way, ignoring the looks from all three of them when she did so.

She had changed, which wasn’t the first thing that he noticed. She’d also removed any traces of gold from her features, something that had been placed back on her face after they’d separated, he’d noted. When she looked up, catching him watch her, she blushed a little and laid the gauze out flat, and it was only then that Fitz realized the bandage itself was soaked with alcohol. He just barely stopped himself from cringing as she laid it flat and taped it down.

A moment later, or so it seemed, she was lurching forward, holding her ear as a piercing shriek fell from her lips. Fitz looked up at his companions before turning back to her, his hand gripping her wrist. What the hell was going on?

“My implant!” Jemma shouted, as though she could read his thoughts. “They’re messing with my implant. It’s in my ear!” She said again, shrieking louder as another pitch reverberated through her.

Fitz furrowed his eyebrows, wondering how that was possible as he stood up, looking between Hunter and Mack before his mouth fell open. “Sinara,” he said, inwardly cursing himself. He’d thought of just about everything, and executed everyone except for Kasius’ most loyal servant. He was a bloody idiot.

Mack sighed loudly, running his hand over his face. “I’ll go deal with it,” he said as he turned back toward the door. “But you owe me one, Turbo,” he added before disappearing down the hall. It wasn’t long before there was the distinct sound of fighting a few doors down.

“He and I both,” Hunter said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Fitz rolled his eyes before smacking Hunter on the shoulder. They’d talk later about all of this. “Don’t worry,” he told him as they heard a distinctive gun shot from the other room. Mack hated using guns. “You’re still my favorite, sweetheart.”

Fitz sighed as another shriek from Jemma came from them and he began moving around the room slowly, tossing things around until he found a pair of forceps and moved back over to her, his body nudging against the side. He nearly collapsed, holding himself up as he draped his body across hers, ignoring the heat that coursed through him. Jemma stared back up at him, a mix of confusion and fear in her honeyed hues.

“Jemma,” he murmured as he cradled her head with one hand, bringing the forceps into her view with the other one. “This is going to hurt.”

She didn’t need to ask him what he meant, but when the metal forceps pressed against her ear, she shivered, and then screamed as he dug them in further, looking for the device that was inhibiting her like that. It was only a few moments before he felt it and he pulled it out, both the device and the forceps falling onto the ground in the next second.

They both sighed, sagging with relief as she gripped his elbow, offering him a slight, if not completely, dazed smile as they remained like that.

Mack came into the doorway suddenly, looking around at it’s occupants. He looked haggard and tired, and like he just needed a six month nap. “We’ve got to go,” he urged, gesturing toward the hallway to his right. “Now.”

Hunter nodded along, but Fitz hovered, shaking his head. In the doorway, the two of them stopped and it was only when he looked over that he noticed Enoch standing there. The Chronicon was impossibly quiet at the worst of times.

“I’m not going anywhere yet,” he told them roughly, moving to stand up slowly, albeit not straightly. (It fit, he supposed, because he’d never been properly straight.) “I’m taking her home.”

 

* * *

 

The lower levels of the Lighthouse were nothing like the parts that Kasius showed to his visitors, though somehow, that didn’t surprise Fitz at all. If anything, the people down here were in worst shape than he could have imagined, but he hoped that all of that would change now.

Hunter and Mack had gone back to the ship, but Enoch had stayed close by. The four of them were to meet up once Jemma had found her family again. Really, Fitz knew that she could do it on her own, but even after she’d gone ahead, letting his hand go, and moving toward a woman and embracing her, the only thing that he could do was watch her.

In his jacket, she looked so small. On the way down, in the elevator, the moment she’d complained she was cold, he’d handed it to her. Despite the wound, he felt fairly fine, and he’d never forget the look on her face when he draped it over her shoulders. It was magnificent, like the rest of her.

“You care for her.” Enoch spoke monotonously. It wasn’t a question, more of an observation. Enoch was watching him when he met his eye and the only thing that he could do for a moment was nod. “Then I suppose it’s my duty to tell you this before you leave.”

In the distance, Jemma froze. A shaky hand lifted to her lips as she spoke to her friend, the other woman holding her free hand in her own. Even from the distance, with the amount of noise in the room, he could almost hear her choke on a sob.

At his side, Enoch told Fitz that her parents had been murdered several years before during what their people called a _Renewal_ and it didn’t take him another moment before he was crossing the room, seeking her out.

She jumped a little when he placed his hand on her back, but when she turned toward him, her eyes filled with unshed tears, he felt his heart break into a million pieces. He pulled her toward him, his hand steady on her back as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her into a crushing hug.

All he could hear for a blinding moment was the sound of her sobs against his neck and he held her tighter, ignoring the pain in his side as he did so.

This hadn’t been the ending he’d hoped for her at all.

 

* * *

 

Fitz wasn’t sure who this friend of Jemma’s was, but from the moment they found her, coincidentally when Jemma was still reeling from the news she’d just learned, he was sure that she hated him and wanted to punch him in the face. Thankfully, though, she’d repressed the urge, if only for him. The black eye that Hunter was currently nursing had another story to tell, though.

 The woman glared at Hunter from across the room, her long, flowing hair in wispy billows around her head, and then turned her glare back toward him, if only for a moment.

Jemma had called her Bobbi, but Hunter had already named her she-devil. Fitz was sure which one would stick, but Hunter’s bruised ego and his bruised eye would both go down eventually. If only shortly before they did that song and dance all over again.

Fitz was exhausted.

Not just because of the day’s events, though that had something to do with it, but also because of the mere fact that his night with Jemma, while wonderful as it had been, hadn’t afforded him the same kind of sleep that he was used to. He’d stayed up far too long just watching her, and the morning had come all too fast. The prior realization that it would be their only time together having woken him up.

And by the look of Jemma, she wasn’t far behind him. He offered her a small smile when she noticed him watching her, one that she returned in stride before leaning her head back on her knees. Wordlessly, he nodded toward the hallway, their silent communication their forte in that moment and she smiled, stretching her limbs out before nodding quietly.

While his ship wasn’t stacked full of space, it had enough for them. Jemma’s room was intended to be just down the hall from his own, but as they walked toward the rooms, their hands brushing, he caught her watching him, a different look than what he was used to. He didn’t point it out, or even say anything, instead, brought her to her door and kissed her on the cheek.

They hadn’t talked about the kisses they’d shared, or the moment they’d shared after she’d heard the news of her parents, but they didn’t need to. Perhaps it was better to leave it as some unspoken thing, at least for now.

So when Fitz moved back down the hallway to his own room, he was surprised to feel her grip his hand and turn him around just as his other hand had opened the doorway. When he turned toward her, his entire body on fire suddenly, she pressed up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

It was slower and more languid than what they’d been allowed before. He was still surprised by the softness of her lips, or the curve of frame, and of her taste. It all felt so foreign and yet so unique; so lovely. And when Jemma slid her hand along his cheek, it felt as though every nerve ending came alive underneath her touch.

When she pulled away after a few moments, they were both breathing heavy, and her hand remained on his cheek as she flattened her feet to the ground and stood up straight. A smile that could only be described as coy crossed her features as she ran her tongue along her lower lip before pouting it a bit petulantly. “You missed,” she told him quietly.

His neurons misfired in that moment, too transfixed on the image of her, slightly wanton yet innocent, and the only thing he could do was balk at her. “Huh?” He said after a moment, letting go of the door handle – how was he still holding that? – and letting it swing open behind him.

Jemma grinned then, a soft look on her features when she traced her fingertips along his jawline before she glanced up in his direction. “You missed,” she murmured again, pushing up to meet his mouth again, though this time he responded much more eagerly.

His hand cupped the back of her neck, rubbing his thumb up and down the column as he bent to meet her mouth, his other hand gently winding its way around her back. Jemma gasped softly when their bodies pressed against one another, and the hand that was trapped in between them slowly slid up and tangled in his hair.

After a moment, it was him who pulled away, looking down at her. Her eyes were curious and she didn’t move away from him. If anything, she pulled him closer. “Jem,” he whispered hoarsely, glancing between them. “We shouldn’t…”

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, because a part of him knew that if he’d been any other man, he would have taken her the first time they’d met properly, when she’d been getting ready to do that. But he wasn’t that man. He wasn’t the kind of man who took advantage of women, and he’d spent every day of his life making sure he wouldn’t turn into that man.

That he wouldn’t turn into his father.

Jemma blinked, a flash of hurt in her eyes that he didn’t miss, but she shook her head slowly. He wasn’t sure, at first, if she were agreeing with him, or disagreeing, but she nudged forward, and they both walked back into the room. A moment later, she twisted them and closed the door with his frame, a slight nudge that made his side hurt, but when she draped her frame along his, nothing else mattered for a moment.

“Jem,” he murmured again, staring down at her lips. Jemma rubbed the pad of her thumb along his cheekbone. All the words seemed to leave his mouth all at once.

Jemma twisted her head up, looking at him and dropping her hands to his chest. She played idly with the top button of his shirt, though she didn’t move to slide it out of it’s slot. “Do you want me?” She murmured, though as she nudged his lower half, he knew that she had the answer to that already. His prick nudged back, eager as ever.

He sighed. “Jemma, that’s not the point –”

“A yes or no will suffice,” she interrupted, tapping his chest quietly.

He sighed, laying his hands on her hips as he nodded. “Yes,” he told her. Of course he did. That wasn’t even a question.

 “Good. And obviously I want you, too.” She murmured, her cheeks pinking a little as she said it, though she sunk her teeth into her lower lip a moment later. She looked up at him from underneath her lashes. “You could have died today doing what you did,” she murmured, playing with the lapels of his shirt, her voice thick. “And you did it for me…” She added, letting out a slow, but heavy sigh as she looked up at him, a small smile tugging at her cheeks. “I just want you, Fitz.” She told him, her words plain and true.

He felt his heart stutter under her confession, and hovered above her for a mere moment before bending down and slanting his lips against hers. Jemma gasped a little at the movement, but pressed back with as much eagerness as he was.

It was such a strange thing, she thought, to realize that her freedom was hers now, and that she could kiss him like this because she wanted to, and not because it was her duty. Not because some man or woman was paying a great deal of money to Kasius’ pocket to have her. She was with Fitz because he’d saved her. Because he’d taken her away from the man who’d taken her from her family in the first place.

(She’d never forget his sacrifice – never forget that he’d given her the chance to find freedom with her family again. Even if things hadn’t turned out the way that he’d wanted them to at all.)

With each press of their lips, their movements became all the more intense. It wasn’t long before the hands that had been playing between the lapels of his shirt and the buttons began pushing the discs out of their slots, moving down the length of his shirt to reveal the white undershirt underneath. She’d seen it earlier, of course, when she’d been bandaging him up, but there was something about seeing it now that set another fire within her.

She wanted to see more.

It wasn’t long before the shirt he was wearing hung open and his hands moved underneath her – his, really – jacket and nudged it off of her shoulders and arms, kicking it out of the way the moment it fit the floor. His hand cradled the back of her neck as they began moving toward the bed and she pushed the fabric of his shirt off of his shoulders just as his hands slid underneath the fabric of her top and began pushing it upwards.

She moaned against his mouth when his rough, calloused hands moved along the underside of her breasts, but the movement was too fast, and her shirt gone before she could really enjoy it. She pulled away from their kiss in both frustration and eagerness, grabbing his wrists from where his hands laid on her hips and directed them to cup her breasts. The sound she made when he complied was almost euphoric.

“Oh,” she gasped, a small squeak falling from her lips as he rubbed the pad of his thumbs along each pert bud. Her eyes searched for his in the low light and she reached up, grabbing each side of his face and pulled him back down toward her until their lips slanted together once more.

He palmed the soft mounds, cupping them differently than what she had first intended, but if anything, the change of grip only had her panting more. With every swipe of his thumb, she was moaning, panting into their kiss and he drank in every sound. When he pulled away, though, the look of disappointment that crossed her face was something he knew he immediately had to aid, and he didn’t wait long before he slid one palm from her breast to lay flat against the small of her back, his mouth covering the area his fingers had just occupied and the response he got was well worth the pouting display he’d gotten in it’s absence.

“Oh,” she gasped again. “Fitz.” She tangled her fingers through his hair again, tugging lightly at the strands. He growled against her breast, but soon kissed across the valley between her breasts and lapped his tongue around the bud until she was groaning again and pulling him back up to her mouth. He laughed into the kiss, at first, but when he pulled her frame back against his and their hips moved against one another, the laughter died down easily.

Her other hand moved along his side, tugging the fabric up quickly and he hissed against her mouth. Jemma paused for a second, her eyes opening as she pulled away, an apologetic look on her features. “I’d forgotten about that,” she murmured, eying his bandage. It wasn’t stained crimson red again, which she was thankful for, but she imagined being stabbed wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.

Fitz laughed a little abruptly, a warm smile on his features as he looked down at the area where the wound was and then back up at her. “Wish I could,” he murmured with a slight shake of his head. “I’m okay,” he murmured and she nodded, gently pulling the undershirt up over his head and dropping it down on the floor beside them. Their lips met again shortly after.

They grew with passion, and she shifted, nudging him gently against the bed until he fell back, and together they moved on it, her thighs on either side of his waist as his head hit the pillows. They laughed a little as they settled, but it wasn’t long before neither of them were laughing. Jemma ground her hips against his hips and he groaned into her mouth.

She smirked, admiring the sound as she rolled them again, experimentally this time; the sound was no less wonderful the second time around, but his hands fell to each side of her hips, holding her in place. She whined a little, pulling away to look him in the eye, but his hand tangled in her hair and pulled her back down before settling back down on her waist.

_Patience_ , he thought, though he knew from the way she insistently moved along him, even without the added pressure from her hips, that she wasn’t quite fond of that word. He smirked a little when he dragged his lips away, the soft sound she made almost pitiful enough for him to press his lips back against hers, but he turned, brushing her hair away from her neck and peppered kisses down the length until she was no longer worried about the lack of contact.

Jemma felt as though her entire body was on fire; deep beneath her skin, with every touch he made, she was lit up again. The drag of his body along hers was good, and the attention he’d paid to her breasts even better, but nothing compared to the friction between her thighs, the friction she’d been hoping to continue, but his hands still remained steady on them. Even while his lips did such wonderful things to her neck.

God, was it possible to combust in that moment?

She threaded her fingers through his hair, her eyes falling shut as he pressed his lips along a particularly sensitive spot. A rush of air fell out of her lungs and she gasped, moaning when he kissed it again, the flat of his tongue rolling along the area experimentally.

Nothing that Bobbi had told her the previous night – god, that seemed like such a millennium ago – had prepared her for him; he was equally attentive and receptive and he worked to hear every sound she could ever make, something that her body seemed happy enough to give into him. The whole thing was a little dizzying, but nice at the same time.

She’d never felt this loved and adored before.

He slid his hands up along her side, holding her there for a moment, before he broke away from her neck and rolled her off of him, though he lifted himself up a moment later, pushing the button out of it’s slot and working on the zip of her jeans. He hooked his thumbs underneath the rim of the material and met her eyes, not daring to move more than a fraction of an inch before she nodded. His silent request approved, he pulled the material down her legs and then threw them off of the bed, his own pants falling off soon beside hers. With them just in their barest of undergarments, she felt suddenly very revealed to him.

She flushed when she caught him watching her, her head dipping a little. But the only thing he could say was, “magnificent.” When she lifted her gaze up again, he slowly made his way over to the bed and pressed another kiss to her mouth, this one easily the softest yet.

When he pulled away, he laid down beside her, reaching over to trace his fingertips along her cheekbone. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he confessed quietly, and his words sent an ache through her.

She covered her hand with his, holding it against her cheek. “You couldn’t,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Fitz, you saved me.”

Jemma turned her head, kissing the palm of his hand and smiled slightly in his direction as he watched her, unmoving for a moment. His lips were slightly bruised from her mouth, and she took great pleasure in the wayward state of his hair. The last day had been an indescribable mess, but it was a mess that she didn’t regret. She hoped the same for him.

“I’ve never done this before,” he confessed in all one breath, and when their eyes met, she noticed the pink of his cheeks. “Not with a woman, at least.”

Jemma’s eyebrows raised, though she hadn’t missed the connection he’d had with the man earlier, their little squabbles that already seemed sort of domestic. It’d been endearing to a fault, but she hadn’t felt jealous. Not when she noticed the heated way that Fitz watched her. She’d been far too distracted to even worry about that.

“Hmm,” she murmured, appraising him as she sat up slowly, sitting back on her heels. “I haven’t either,” she told him, laying her hands flat on her thighs. Fitz eyed her breasts as she did so, the action inadvertently shoving them out. “Though, to be fair, I haven’t slept with a man, either.”

It took Fitz a moment, but he laughed and it was the best sound she’d ever heard. When he looked up at her, she laughed too, and she straddled his waist again, pressing him into the bed.

“Do you want me?” She asked again, her intentions clear as she shimmied down his thighs and played with the rim of his undergarment. Fitz watched her carefully, his breath catching a little when she dragged her fingertips down a little lower, teasing the hardened outline of his prick.

Fitz nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he held her gaze. “Yes.” He confessed, his voice a little husky when he finally spoke. She grinned.

“Good,” she murmured again, hooking her fingers along his boxers and tugging them down agonizingly slow – or slow enough that he was cussing by the time they were on the floor and by the time hers joined the mess of clothes littering his floor. She crawled back up the length of him, straddling his waist again. “And I want you,” she added, as it needed to be said. It was important that he knew that this wasn’t like it would have been the day before; that she wasn’t with him under duty, but rather because she wanted to be. From the look on his face, she thought that he already knew. His hands moved to her sides, and he sat up slightly, meeting her halfway when she bent down to kiss him again. “What do you think we should do about it?” She murmured, breaking away from their touch for just a moment.

Fitz hovered, as though thinking about it and then smiled a little. “Maybe we should just stop thinking…” he murmured quietly, looking up at her as he pressed her against his chest. “And just do.”

It was Jemma’s turn to laugh, although it felt more like a relieved laugh than anything else as their lips met again and again, the warmth in her belly growing again as his hands moved up and down the length of her back.

The feeling sent shivers down her back and she leaned into his frame, letting her breasts pressed against his chest. Not for the first time, she felt a heat rush through her as her nipples dragged along his rough skin. Each touch of his body and his hands and his lips felt as though it would ignite her from within.

She craved every single bit of it.

Fitz was in awe of every single sound she made; though, to be fair, he was in awe of her. From the moment they’d met, there’d been something that had drawn him to her, and it was still the same for now as their bodies moved together, not quite close enough to where either of them wanted to be.

Experimentally, he slid his hand down her back and around her front, dipping it in between her thighs. He teased the tip of his finger along her slit as their mouths moved together, enticing a low moan from her. She gasped against his mouth and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue along hers, distracting her as he slowly slid one digit inside of her. She groaned again around the sensation and he thrust experimentally, soaking up each gasp and moan and groan alike that she released before he removed the digit and then teased it along her slit, purposefully ignoring the bud at her center. There would be time for that later.

“Fitz,” she murmured, her voice needy as she pressed up closer to him, reaching in between them to grab his shaft. He choked a little at the sensation, her cold fingertips a shock to his system, but his surprise soon turned to arousal as she stroked it lightly, moving her thumb along the slit to collect the precum. “I want you.”

She pulled away just enough to catch his eye, and though his mouth didn’t seem to work to utter the same thought back to her, she took his nod as an acceptance and aligned it to her entrance. She slid it along the slit, gasping as it swept across, and then after a torturous moment, she lowered herself down onto his shaft, taking as much as she could before she held herself there.

Bobbi had said it would hurt; the pinching feeling within her was uncomfortable, but she slowly lifted herself back up, pressing her hands down low on his abdomen and then lowered herself back down again, using the same shallow thrusts and taking a bit more each time. Fitz’s fingers dug into her side as she moved, the uncomfortable feeling sliding away after a moment, and then all she could focus on was the pleasure.

Oh Lord, no one could have told her how good it felt.

He held her, not quite moving as she adjusted to his girth, but with every swipe she became bolder, taking more and it wasn’t long before their hips were brushing with each thrust. She gasped a little the first time they met, holding it there as she allowed herself a fleeting moment to embrace the feeling of him deep within her before lifting up again, the two of them falling into a cadence of moans.

It was almost too much, the feeling of it all, but it only became all the more intense when he began thrusting back against her, his hips meeting hers for each downward stroke and he felt so damn _good_ that she thought she might cry. (Was that appropriate?) Instead, she cupped both of her hands along his cheeks and pulled him into a bruising kiss, one that only seemed to fuel their actions. She was floating.

He slid a hand in between them, watching her as he found the sensitive bundle of nerves at her center. At first, she wasn’t sure about it; he could tell by the furrow of her eyebrows, but when his fingertips found a rhythm that suited her, she was pushing against them, her mouth dropping open and the whole thing was a bit overwhelming. She was absolutely magnificent. He couldn’t say it enough.

Jemma rocked her hips a little more insistently, clenching down around him with every stroke of his fingertips and the entire exchange was almost too much for him. His eyes slammed shut and he groaned around the sensation, pressing a kiss to her jawline as she came closer to him. She moaned into the space between them, how little there was, and kissed him square on the mouth, though she didn’t give him enough of a chance to kiss back before she was pulling back ever so slightly, her mouth falling open into an ‘o’.

When she clamped down around him, he opened his eyes, watching as her face contorted into pleasure. Her nails dug into his back as she groaned, her entire body shaking for a few moments. His fingers didn’t relent, though, dragging out her release as long as she could possibly take it. And when she reached between them to remove his hand, she was gasping, quietly telling him that she couldn’t take any more.

He’d have to prove her wrong about that later.

Instead, he slanted his mouth against hers, both hands moving to rest on her ass cheeks, using the leverage to thrust up into her. She gasped with every stroke, one hand moving to wrap around his head and hold him close, their foreheads pressing against one another as she moaned again, the sound just as holy as the first time he’d heard it.

“Oh,” she gasped again, arching against him as his shaft stroked something inside of her and the movement rendered her still for a moment. “Yes.” She gasped again, and he laid one hand on the small of her back to hold her in place as he slid into her again and again until he found the spot and every thrust thereafter was calculated. He stroked within her until she was clamping down again, her words almost indecipherable as she clung to him, begging for something – anything and he held her through every last wave.

They came together one last time, her muscles still fluttering along his shaft as he buried himself with her, succumbing to his own release. His lips touched everywhere that he could reach; her hands, her chest, her neck, as he fell down slowly. Slow, aborted thrusts finishing them both off as they collapsed together, breathing heavily.

Jemma rolled off of him after a moment, ignoring how weak her legs were as she nearly collapsed to the bed beside him. He reached across, linking their fingers together as he stayed exactly where he was. Jemma squeezed her thighs together, relishing in the delicious hurt between them.

It was only then that she noticed the crimson stain on his bandage and she immediately shot up. “Fitz,” she exclaimed, touching around the stain. “You’re bleeding.”

“M’fine,” he insisted, though his words were slurred together as he tried to get his breathing back. He hadn’t even noticed the sting on his side until she pointed it out, but it was hardly anything to worry about. They’d probably just disturbed the stitches (something he’d shoddily done when they’d returned to the ship.) He knew that he’d have a lot more pain if they were actually torn. “It’s okay.”

Jemma looked between him and the bandage, her eyes wide as she exhaled slowly, her breathing finally returning to normal. “You won’t be if this gets infected!” She cried, looking around his room for some sort of kit to clean it up, but he reached up a shaky hand up and cupped her cheek. “You can’t go dying on me now. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Mm,” he murmured against her mouth, and when she pulled away, her hair surrounding her like a halo, the only thing he could do was grin. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It’s a promise,” she reminded him, and then slid off the bed, moving to pull his shirt over her shoulders. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go find something to clean that up with.”

Fitz didn’t mind the view at all when she slipped out of the room, nor the view when she came back a handful of seconds later, pink cheeks and a small smile, but he did mind when she ended up taking out the stitches he’d done one by one and fixed the wound up properly. (That hurt.)

He also didn’t mind the sweet kiss that she’d given him in the end, or the way she’d curled up against his good side, a warm reminder of what now was home.

She’d be by his side for the rest of his damn time on this galaxy, he knew, and he didn’t regret it one bit.

 

* * *

 

It was beautiful.

From her perch on Fitz’s lap, Jemma stared in awe at the mass of space around them. They were passing by Saturn, she thinks Fitz called it, and the rings around it were marvelous from the distance they kept.

She would have never imagined the chance to see it up close, as they were now, as the small team of them moved toward their next destination, a small planet just outside of Jupiter, which was arguably behind them, but Fitz had asked for Mack to go the long way, if only to show Jemma everything that there was to see in the universe, everything that there was to offer. She was in complete awe.

She tightened her grip around his shoulders as a meteor flew in front of them, probably no less than a hundred yards ahead, and braced for impact. The Lighthouse had had several meteor showers, but she’d always felt safe there. It wasn’t the same here, where they could easily be knocked out of the sky, but Fitz reminded her near constantly that they were as safe here as anywhere else.

Fitz patted her thigh, as if sensing where her stress was coming from, and she turned toward him a little sheepishly, remembering his words. But he didn’t look angry, or even annoyed; he looked concerned. She ran her fingers through his short cropped curls and pressed a kiss to his forehead and held him close. They both collectively ignored the groans from Hunter about public displays of affection.

It’d been months since they’d left the Lighthouse, and there hadn’t been a word. Enoch had stayed behind to help the humans adjust and hopefully help them out in any way possible. This would be a change for everyone, especially those who’d grown up under the Kree reign. All the same, Jemma worried about the people she knew there. Enoch had promised to get in touch when he could, but he hadn’t yet.

“We good now, Turbo?” Mack asked from his side, adjusting his grip on the controller. Jemma glanced over at him, curiosity in her gaze. Meanwhile, Fitz knew he was itching for a break just as much as the rest of them.

Fitz nodded, squeezing his arm a little around Jemma’s waist. “Yeah,” he told him. “Set the coordinates and bring us home, Mack.”

Jemma turned a little, meeting his gaze with furrowed eyebrows. However, before she could ask the question, Hunter was piping up, confusion in his own voice. “Home?” He asked, his voice a little unsteady.

“Yeah,” Fitz swung the chair around, facing his companions. “I figured it was time for a short break. We’ll be back up by next week, but I thought it might do us all some good.” He explained, shrugging one shoulder lightly. “Plus, I’ve gotta make sure that Piper hasn’t managed to accidentally start a revolution in our absence.”

Hunter barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Trust me, if she did, it’s no accident,” he reminded him, and the only thing Fitz could do for a long moment was laugh. Hunter did have a point.

Fitz turned back around, facing them both toward the galaxy as Jemma leaned her head against his. His arms wound around her waist a little tighter as she asked, “Who is Piper?”

He balked a little, surprised that he hadn’t mentioned her before. “Hunter’s sister,” he explained quickly. “Well, the closest thing to it. They grew up together on Knowhere. She’s just as big of a pain in the ass as he is, though he still wins.”

Jemma lifted her head and looked back at Hunter as he threw his hands up, making obscene gestures towards Fitz and laughed as she tucked her head quietly back into his neck. She let out a small sigh of contentment.

They were going to Fitz’s home, something that he hadn’t talked about much outside of his talks of being raised there, and there was still an entire galaxy out there waiting for them.

And she absolutely couldn’t wait to spend every day until her last breath searching through it with him by her side.

 


End file.
